Not Just A Routine Procedure
by psychoman222
Summary: Self-Insert, but not like you have ever read before... I went to the hospital, for a routine procedure. I wake up a 168 years later, in a YMIR mech. Thankfully, Someone is there to help me though this trying time, but he may not have my best interest at heart...
1. Chapter 1

AN: For those of you who got here from my profile, keep in mind this is NOT like my other stories. There is little humor to be found here.

* * *

_**Not Just A Routine Procedure**_

_**Beginning of the Nightmare**_

Just A Routine Procedure, they told me. It wasn't the first time I went in for surgery. I had my appendix removed as a kid, and my wisdom teeth removed as an adult. However, this time, when they put me under...

I never woke up.

"Huh, this one is actually beginning to move! When did you say you got this one, Doctor?"

The doctor, I assume, whistles.

"2014. This ...Specimen has been on ice for a while."

I feel sluggish, like my own body's fighting me. everything... feels weird. I can't feel my heartbeat, I can't feel myself breathe. I can't smell. Yet, everything I see seems... crisper. My hearing... perfect.

"**WHERE AM I?"** I ask, before freezing. That was _not_ my voice. It was metallic, like I was talking through a cheap microphone, but not before I used one of those voice-masking programs you see in spy thrillers.

"It speaks! This is incredible! We've never gotten so much as a twitch out of the others!"

"Now, now, let's not be rude. Mr...****?" The 'doctor' inquires.

**"Y..YES?" **I stammer, freaking out slightly at NOT HAVING MY VOICE!

"Ah, good, the file is accurate. Well, Mr. ****, Your surgery... did not go as planned. I am not in the habit of sugar coating things for my patients, so I am going to give it to you straight. You died. And, well, since you did say you had no problem with your organs being donated after death... Well, your brain wound up donated to science, though it was kept in cryostasis until now."

**"HOW AM I SPEAKING, THEN?"** Most would be freaking out, right now. I'm surprised I'm not. I suppose it'll sink in later.

"We are testing a... prosthetic. You are our first success. As for your previous question... You are in a lab, I am afraid the exact location is classified. And the year... is 2182. You have been on ice for one hundred, sixty-eight years. And _so_ much has changed since then! We have achieved faster-than-light travel! We have encountered alien species! Though, admittedly, that second one is not the boon it sounds like. You see, they attacked us without provocation during First Contact. And we came to a cease-fire, but since then they have been strangling us with beauracracy! Their slavers raid our homes, and when we try to take our people back, the others threaten us with war! It! Is! Maddening!"

"**THAT DOES SOUND SERIOUS, DOCTOR. HOWEVER, I WILL RESERVE JUDGMENT ABOUT THEM FOR NOW. AFTER ALL, DATA COLLECTED FROM A SINGLE SAMPLE CANNOT MAKE A LAW.**" I say, dusting off my old science classes for my metaphor.

The doctor laughed at that.

"Ah, a man after my own heart. Yes, of course, you are correct."

I decide to bring up something that's been bothering me.

"**DOCTOR, IT IS STRANGE. I SHOULD BE... PANICKING RIGHT NOW. AFTER ALL, I FOUND OUT I DIED, AND DISCOVERED THAT I'M OVER A HUNDRED AND FIFTY YEARS IN THE FUTURE. BUT I FEEL... CALM."**

"Nothing to worry about, Mr. ****. My assistant is monitoring your stress levels, and injecting calming drugs as needed. Nothing more. Though, it is good that you told me immediately. It only makes both of our lives more difficult if you withhold information like that. Well, let's see if you can move. Move your right arm."

I do so.

"Now, move your left."

I comply.

"Nod your head."

Again, I do as I'm told.

"Try taking a step. First your right, then left."

I do so, and as I'm taking my step, I feel... heavy. I immediately tell the Doctor.

"Well, of course you do, Mr. ****. The current...chassis you are in weighs four tons."

**"F****our**_**tons**__**?"**_

**"**Yes. It is a... military surplus.A YMIR mech, that we modified. We'll see about lightening it as we continue our tests."

And such is how I spend the next several months.

The doctor, Whose name I eventually learned was Dr. Josef Mendes, ran me through tests for eight hours a day, allowed me to watch... future TV, as it appeared to be. There was only one or two channels, and Dr. Josef said that was due to reception issues. But it was better than nothing.

There was the news channel, and what appeared to be a history channel.

The History channel spoke of the First Contact War, and the Battle of Shanxi.

The news showed constant slaver raids, and legislation passed to oppress humans.

The more I watched, the more I convinced I was that Doctor Josef was right.

Then Doctor Josef said he had a... special test. A weapons test. I was slightly nervous, but I did a stint as a Boy Scout, and wasn't a bad marksman. I was by no means gun shy. And Doctor Josef _did_ mention alot of funding came from government defense contracts, so I suppressed it.

Stationary target. Bullseye. Probably could have made it even without my targeting system.

Moving target. Slightly trickier, but again, my targeting system was more than enough to compensate.

Then came the next test.

Dr. Josef brought in a Batarian.

One of those slavers.

"Mr. ****. Please shoot him."

If he had asked me this when I had first woken up, I would have told him to go to Hell.

I couldn't have shot anyone. Hell, I used to go out of my way to avoid stepping on a bug.

But after the past few months, watching what these monsters do to people...

I saw through the Batarian's tears, his pleas for mercy. I ignored them. After all, if the situation were reversed, he would just laugh at me, before torturing me so I would be his broken, obedient slave.

Like he did so many others.

I fired a single shot from my autocannon arm.

Hit him right between his four eyes.

Dr. Josef smiled.

"Welcome to Cerberus, Mr. ****."

* * *

AN: I've seen a couple of fics that have Project Lazarus turn Shepard into a YMIR mech. And I've seen more than a couple Mass Effect self inserts. I decided to blend both into one.

The premise is Cerberus installed my brain into a YMIR, and then stuck me on a regimen to both see if their project was feasible, and to brainwash me to be all "PURGE THE ALIEN!"

This fic will pretty much involve Me and my YMIR mech body trying to track down Shepard, trying to 'help' him defeat Saren... WITH EXTREME PREJUDICE.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Not Just A Routine Procedure**_

_**First Mission**_

"Mr. ****. Cerberus is a group devoted to defending humanity, from threats both internal and external. My employer has… expanded my budget, with your proof of loyalty to humanity.

As such, he has allowed me to customize your chassis however you wish, however, if you wish to join us, it is not impossible that you would be asked to go on… dangerous assignments."

I know the second he finishes talking, I could not sit idly by while humanity suffers. Not when I have been given this power to help.

My first words out, were ones I have been saving up for months.

"**I WANT HANDS."**

"…Understandable, Mr. ****. However, I cannot guarantee your safety, as the aliens have many allies. The autocannons you have would be a great…. Deterrent."

"…**WOULD IT BE POSSIBLE TO MOUNT THEM SOMEWHERE ELSE? THE SHOULDERS, PERHAPS?"**

"That would limit the firing arcs, but it's doable."

"**A****nd ****with more articulate hands, I would be able to use more conventional weaponry****."**

"Yes… you are correct, Mr. ****. Was there anything else?"

"**IF I AM BEING DEPLOYED TO DEFEND HUMANITY, OTHER … MILITARY EQUIPMENT WILL BE NECESSARY. IS THERE A SYSTEM THAT WILL MAKE ME MORE… SUBTLE?"**

" There _is,_ but a YMIR mech doesn't have the… intelligence…." Doctor Josef trails off in thought.

"Yes… excellent idea, Mr. ****. It is possible." He says, finally.

"**VERY WELL. THAT IS ALL THE IDEAS I HAVE FOR NOW."**

I spent the next few weeks being retrofitted, and learning how to use my new hands.

Until Dr. Josef brought in a man in a suit, with a woman in a skintight white catsuit attending him.

"So, this is the gem of Project Medula."

The woman in the catsuit scoffed.

"A YMIR mech. I could have gotten a thousand of them for what this project cost."

I bristled. Almost half a year of constant testing on my part, countless sleepless nights for Dr. Josef, making sure this project worked, and she began insulting him without even reading the briefing, which would have _told_ her just what went into this? I could not let _that_ slide.

"**DID YOU EVEN BOTHER TO READ THE BRIEFING? OR WERE YOU TOO BUSY MAKING MONEY ON THE SIDE TO BOTHER?"** I interject.

"As Mr. **** demonstrated, Project Medula is more than just some mass produced mech. It has the firepower of one, the precision of one, but with a human's instincts and ability to think."

"That mech houses an _AI?" _the woman in white asks, incredulously.

"**DID YOU EVEN **_**PASS**_** BIOLOGY CLASS? A MEDULA IS A SECTION OF THE BRAIN, ACTUALLY, MORE OF A PROTO-BRAIN, WHICH CONTROLS MOST OF YOUR BODY'S FUNCTIONS. THUS, THE PROGRAM WOULD HAVE MORE TO DO WITH NEUROSCIENCE THAN PROGRAMMING. YOU REALLY **_**DIDN'T **_**READ THE BRIEFING."**

Okay, maybe that was uncalled for.

"Be nice, Mr. ****. I'm sure Miss Lawson has had a lot on her plate, and we are all allies here." Dr. Josef intervened.

"Well said, Doctor. Mr. ****, it is a pleasure to meet you." The suited man said.

"**AND YOU AS WELL, MR….?"**

"You can call me The Illusive Man."

"**A TITLE, I ASSUME."**

"You would be correct. Mr. ****, are you feeling up for a… field test?"

"**I AM NOT A SOLDIER BY NATURE, BUT I WILL HELP YOU IF I CAN, IF IT WILL DEFEND HUMANITY."**

"Excellent. There is a colony, Eden Prime. They uncovered a Prothean beacon. The last time one was discovered, it advanced human technology by over two hundred years. Many people want it, pirates and politicians included."

"**YOU WISH FOR ME TO SECURE IT, SO IT CAN BE TRANSPORTED TO TRUSTWORTHY HANDS."**

"Quick on the uptake. I like that. Operative Lawson will serve as your controller for this mission. Your ocular cameras will transmit a live feed to us, so we can give you help and recommendations in real time."

"**WHEN DO I LEAVE?"**

"Now, if you are ready."

I left in a small ship, if you can call it that. There was just me and the pilot, and not much room for anything else.

When I got to Eden Prime, it was a warzone.

The pilot dropped me off, rather literally. Apparently YMIR mechs were designed for airborne drops.

Too bad I wasn't.

"**FUUUUUUCK YOOUUUUUUUUUU!"** I Yelled at the pilot as I fell, from somewhere in the stratosphere.

"Don't blame the pilot. He wasn't read in to Project Medula. He merely thought he was transporting a run of a mill mech." Operative Lawson spoke over the radio.

"Besides, your chassis is more than capable of withstanding the impact. Stop being such a baby." I could _feel_ the smirk in her voice.

"**THIS IS REVENGE FOR ME IMPLYING YOU WERE TURNING TRICKS RATHER THAN DOING YOUR JOB, ISN'T IT."**

"No. That's merely why I'm enjoying it so much."

"**BITCH."**

"Eh, I've been called worse."

My ocular sensors pick something up.

I'm about to land on someone.

"**UHH, IS THERE ANY WAY FOR ME TO MANEUVER IN MIDAIR SO I **_**DON'T **_**LAND ON THIS GUY?"**

"Without you being burned up? No."

"**SHIT."**

I eventually decide to risk it, and deploy early.

I miss him by a foot.

Too bad I think I killed him anyway, as when my legs deployed, I wound up kicking him in the face.

Not to mention the shockwave from my impact, which sends both him and the guy next to him flying. The guy next to him flies into a nearby crate, while the guy I kicked flew off the platform I landed on.

"Shit."

"**PROBLEM, OPERATIVE LAWSON?"**

" The person you… kicked was Saren Arterius. A Spectre. And the one who hit the crates was Nihilus Kryik. Also a Spectre."

Spectres. Those alien space-gestapo.

"**THANK GOD. I DIDN'T HIT ANYONE I GIVE A DAMN ABOUT."**

"Such as?"

"**HUMANS."**

"Mr. ****. This is bad. TWO Spectres? On a _Human _Colony? AND YOU KILLED THEM!? The Council will be furious…"

"**ACTUALLY, I THINK I ONLY KILLED SAREN. NIHILUS IS STILL BREATHING. AND BESIDES, THAT WILL SEND THE COUNCIL A MESSAGE. THEY ARE **_**NOT**_** GOING TO GET AWAY WITH RAIDING A HUMAN COLONY.**"

"It isn't that simple, Mr. ****. There are MILLIONS of factors to consider… key of which we don't know WHO is raiding the colony. They could have been here to help."

"**SINCE WHEN DO ALIENS GIVE A DAMN ABOUT HUMANS?"**

"Some do."

" **NEVERMIND. MOVING TO SECURE THE ARTIFACT."**

Something, a forgotten memory, leads me to a site that my mind tells me has to do with something 'Prothean.'

I begin digging, as that same memory tells me it's underground.

"Mr. ****, the beacon is almost a MILE away from you! What are you DOING?" She yells, then falls silent.

What I dug up was a black box, big enough for a human to fit in.

It has power.

"…Do you know what that is?"

"**NO."**

"That's a Prothean stasis pod. An active one. Whatever's in there… is still alive. You found a live Prothean."

There's only one thing I can say in reply.

"**COOL."**

_Somewhere in the galaxy…_

Safely onboard Sovereign, Saren rubbed his sore jaw. If it wasn't for his enhancements, that would have snapped his neck. At least he managed to kill Nihilus, and obtain the knowledge of the beacon.

_On the Normandy…_

"Nihilus is alive and stable, Captain. However, between the knock to the head and the gunshot wound in the back, we don't know when he'll wake up."

"Damn. A rouge spectre, if that witness is to be believed, an unconscious Spectre and Specter candidate, and a destroyed beacon. This mission is _beyond _FUBAR."

_Yet elsewhere…_

The Illusive Man looked at the feed in shock.

There was only one thought going through his mind.

_Jackpot!_


End file.
